


Thank You Kindly, Wolf

by dalula



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Come Eating, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalula/pseuds/dalula
Summary: “No, please.” This is where the game begins. Draco can whine and shake his head all he likes, let him convince himself that his dignity is intact, but he’ll still arch into Fenrir’s hands and sob to be allowed to come. If pretending that he doesn’t want this makes him flush so beautifully, Fenrir won’t protest. Maybe he enjoys this game a little too.
Relationships: Fenrir Greyback/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 163





	Thank You Kindly, Wolf

“Fucking begging for it, huh?”

Fenrir bore down on the teen, pressing him harder against the wall. Predictably, the blonde’s legs opened willingly for a thick thigh to slide in between them as a breathless gasp was torn from his throat.

“Does daddy know how much of a whore his son is?”

Lucius Malfoy doesn’t know much about anything, nowadays, which is a fact they’re both very aware of. The elder Malfoy is often seen wandering the corridors of his house in a daze, deliberately or not, remaining ignorant to what his wife and son are doing to survive each day. It seems a stay in Azkaban didn’t agree with him quite like it did Bellatrix.

Knowing that, however, doesn’t stop the blood rushing to the boy’s cheeks.

“Not a whore,” he whispers as if he fears being caught. Like everyone within the manor isn’t familiar with just how sweetly he moans.

Fenrir’s grin is more wolf than human. “Oh, but _this_ says otherwise.”

Without the delicacy a boy of his breeding deserves, Fenrir grips the bulge between his legs and squeezes.

“No, please.” This is where the game begins. Draco can whine and shake his head all he likes, let him convince himself that his dignity is intact, but he’ll still arch into Fenrir’s hands and sob to be allowed to come. If pretending that he doesn’t want this makes him flush so beautifully, Fenrir won’t protest. Maybe he enjoys this game a little too.

“Please what?” A dainty hand encircles his wrist, not pulling him away but holding on tight like it's the only thing keeping him centred. “Please touch your pretty, little cock?”

The words make the blonde’s hips jerk forward into Fenrir’s motionless grip. He squirms, arcing his head back to avoid the watchful eyes of the man in front of him. As a result, his pale throat is bared. Illuminated from the moonlight and left so defenceless, Fenrir doesn’t fight the urge to bite it. It won't be a full moon for a few days yet and he isn’t doing much more than nipping at the sensitive skin but Draco cries out like he’s being devoured, his free hand moving to grip his companion’s shoulder. 

“Noo,” Draco whimpers, high and pathetic like he knows Fenrir likes. The line between male, female and child is blurred in the dimness of the room. “Don’t - don’t bite me.”

That elicits a deep laugh from the werewolf. “Don’t you worry, pup, I’m not turning you. You wouldn’t survive it.”

An embarrassed flush rises to his cheeks. “Good,” Draco spits, a wave of his old forgotten confidence overtaking him. “I would rather die than be filth like you.”

Even with all the venom in his voice, his hips continue to grind into the hand encompassing his crotch. His barbs have long since grown powerless, made even more ineffective when he’s blushing like a pallid virgin in the arms of a lover.

“Shh,” Fenrir hums, unaffected. “Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut. Unless you want me to leave you like this?”

To emphasize his point, Fenrir goes to move his hand away. With a miserable wail, the hand still clenched around his wrist grips harder still in an effort to keep it there.

“No!”

His attractive face is open with desperation, eyebrows drawn up in concern. In moments like this, it’s particularly hard to see the resemblance of his father. Fenrir struggles to imagine Lucius Malfoy ever being so earnestly vulnerable with his feelings, made so weak by his needs. Although, Fenrir also struggles to imagine pressing Lucius Malfoy against a wall and fucking his brains out, so maybe that’s on him.

“I don’t know if you’ve earned it yet,” Fenrir smirks. “Apologise. Tell me how sorry you are, what you’ll do to make it up to me.”

To Fenrir’s pleasure, Draco’s blush returns. Who would’ve thought that a Malfoy would delight so much from humiliation?

“I’m, uh.” Draco halts to lick his lips, watching as Fenrir’s eyes follow the movement. “I apologise, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

He glances up through his eyelashes, pausing to see if he can get away with finishing there. After receiving nothing more than a raised eyebrow, Draco continues.

“Please forgive me, sir.” The honorific seems to spur him on; his hesitant expression becomes one of coltish headiness. The poorly hidden sulk in his voice drains into a lustful moan. “I’m so empty without you, I need you.”

Reluctantly, Fenrir begins to rub the clothed bulge between Draco’s legs, not hard enough to satisfy but enough to elicit a breathy whine. His other hand rests on one of Draco’s sharp hip bones to prevent him from grinding up against Fenrir’s warm palm. The silence between them as they wait for Draco to continue is tense with lust.

“Stretch my hole with your c-cock. _Fuck_ .” What’s left of the blonde’s composure is quickly derailing, be it from the gentle sensation against his crotch or the overwhelming presence of the man towering above him. “Please, I need your thick cock to fuck me so hard all I can think of is your come deep inside of me. I'm your toy. _Use me_ . Let me suck your dick - anything. I'm aching for you, _please._ ”

“So polite,” Fenrir murmurs, unmoved by his impassioned speech. “But you don’t deserve my cock-”

“No!”

Fenrir slams his body against Draco, sliding the hand from his hip around his tender neck instead.

“Thought I said to keep your mouth shut, whore. I decide if you get this dick, got it?”

With wide, dilated eyes, Draco nods meekly.

“Ah, it seems he can be taught.” His words are punctuated with a harsh squeeze around his genitals. “I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want to you and you’re gonna stay quiet. Wouldn’t want daddy to hear how desperate his baby boy is, would we?”

Breathlessly obedient, Draco merely shakes his head. His hands are curled loosely in the coarse fabric of Fenrir’s shirt, neither pulling him closer or pushing him away. Even with all of the rough treatment, his dick is still hard in his trousers and his hips unconsciously swaying into the large hand cupping him.

“Good boy.” 

Fenrir finally slips his hand into Draco’s trousers, making him whine from the feeling of hot skin against skin. A warning look silences him again. Fingers skate over the freshly shaved flesh until they reach the silky foreskin of his shaft, where they glide it up and down in a loose grip. A soft mewl is cut off halfway as Draco bites down on his hand in an attempt to keep silent.

“So sensitive,” Fenrir coos, leering at the pitiful sight in front of him. He teases the small hole at the tip of the blonde’s cock, brushing away the drop of moisture that’s welled up. Draco’s eyelids flutter but he remains dutifully soundless.

Without warning, Fenrir harshens his grip and begins to stroke the stiff member held in his hand.

“Oh!” Draco gasps, his back arching off of the wall. “Yes, oh _please_ -”

Fenrir moves his free palm over Draco’s mouth to silence his wails, holding his head firmly against the wall. He’s not actually worried about someone stumbling across them, he’s more than happy to let someone else revel in the sight of a Malfoy brought so low, but it’s clear the risk of being found makes Draco leak from that sweet, little cockhead of his.

"You're so desperate," Fenrir croons. "Such a needy, little slut, begging for someone to pump you full of come. Batting those doe eyes at anyone who'll look at you, just hoping they'll fill up that tight cunt of yours."

Draco’s nods, breathing heavily from his nose. His gaze goes unfocused as Fenrir continues to stroke him steadily, staring hazily at a spot in the distance. It's in intimate, quiet occasions like this in which Fenrir can enjoy the musky scents, the feverish heat emitting from pale skin, the barely audible noises of his partner. Maybe it's the nearing full moon, maybe it's the closeness, but something allows him to relish these brief moments with all five senses.

He can't savour it for long, however. Predictably for a boy Draco's age, he nears his climax quickly. His whole body begins to tense, eyebrows knitting together like he’s overwhelmed by the sensations flooding his body.

“Close already, huh? Gonna let a dirty halfbreed finish you off?”

A jerky **,** frantic nod confirms what Fenrir already knows. He concentrates his movements to the head, dragging the foreskin over the smooth flesh like he knows Draco likes. It’s almost humorous how easy it is to bring him to climax; it’s as if he was bred to be used like this. It’ll only take a little more to take him over the edge. Fenrir grins wickedly and leans in close to Draco’s ear, lowering his voice to a purring rumble.

"What are you thinking of? Imagining having a cock shoved so far down your throat all you can do is choke and drool? Or maybe you’re thinking about your pretty, pink hole being stretched and fucked on a nice, fat dick. Do you want that? You want daddy to stuff every one of your gaping holes?"

That does the trick. With a muffled cry, Draco shudders and his eyes roll back. Fenrir feels the hot liquid splatter over his hand and the fabric confines of the blonde's trousers. One last brutal squeeze from base to tip milks the last drizzle out of the quickly softening member. Draco's thighs tremble as he tries to stay standing, his frail hands holding onto Fenrir to remain upright. He’s mewling gently as he comes down from his high, twitching his hips away from the hand stubbornly continuing to tease his sensitive cock. Draco swats feebly at the hand over his mouth and takes a large intake of air once it moves away.

"N-no more," he pants. "Please."

"You still think you've got a say in when I stop, huh?" To stress his point he brushes his thumb over the sore head again, smearing the cooling liquid over the spongey flesh. "That’s cute."

Draco's body can't seem to decide whether it wants Fenrir to keep touching him or stop; he jerks into and away from the crude movements with seemingly little control. Tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes as he struggles with the ongoing taunting, writhing hopelessly.

"Sir," Draco pleads, his voice strained **.** He makes an incoherent sound and leans forward until his face is pressed into Fenrir's chest, clearly disorientated but still allowing his elder to do as he wishes.

Taking pity on the boy, Fenrir finally stops, allowing the blonde's shivering body to go limp and rest against him. There’s little strength needed to hold his slim frame up. Fenrir brings his hand up to Draco’s rosy mouth to clear up the streaks of white decorating his flesh. He's been trained well and needs no encouragement to begin licking up his own seed, lapping it up like a kitten, too dazed to oppose.

"Such a good boy," Fenrir murmurs kindly. "So well behaved for me."

"Thank you, sir," Draco sighs. He presses gentle kisses to the now clean hand, nuzzling his nose into the palm.

"You leave your door unlocked tonight and I'll satisfy that sweet hole of yours too." Fenrir takes the hint and moves his hand to pet the downy hair on Draco’s head, eliciting a tired, content moan. Touch starved pup.

Draco's voice is half-muffled in Fenrir's thorax. "I'd like that very much, sir."

He seems close to falling asleep where he stands, despite it still being light outside. Fenrir supposes it wouldn't hurt to let him relax against him, just for a bit. The patch of warmth where his breath lands are eerily close to his heart, maybe too apt a metaphor for even an uncivilised man like Fenrir to ignore.

He lets the silken threads glide between his fingers. This boy will almost certainly be too much trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how to tag and its 3am


End file.
